It's A Bird! It's A Plane!
by AMKelley
Summary: If there were a crappy costume contest, Bruce would consider Clark to be a bit of competition because they both look stupid. (Imagine your OTP dressing up as each other on Halloween) *AU, PWP, sexual content, oral sex, semi-publc sex, costumes*


Bruce didn't really _do_ Halloween, or parties for that matter, especially when both of those things were put together and hosted by a man like Lex Luthor. He didn't like dressing up in a cheaply made costume and his partying days were long behind him since he had better things to do. However, this particular occasion had been the exception since Bruce was obligated to be here. He had to make an appearance, costume and all, in the name of charity.

It's not that Bruce was opposed to the idea of charity, in fact he encouraged it and has donated thousands upon thousands each year for different causes in support, and he wouldn't have minded wearing a costume so much if he had been able to pick it out himself. The fact of the matter was that Bruce didn't have any say in the costume he'd be wearing for the evening, a part of the fine print his publicist had kept out of the deal until the last minute, and now he was stuck looking like a damn fool the whole night. In front of people. People he personally knew. People that could possibly be reporters.

He already didn't like the fact that Lex would see him in this ridiculous get up, then again the invitation had been from Lex himself and Bruce wouldn't be surprised if that weasel of a man had hand picked the outfit as a joke to make _the_ Bruce Wayne look stupid. Bruce hated it, yeah, and he'd love nothing more than to leave now before more people saw him like this, but one thing kept him in his place off to the side of the ballroom.

It was a Halloween benefit being held for one of the biggest orphanages in Metropolis. Sure, it wasn't Bruce's city, but that didn't matter when the cause hit so close to home. Bruce thought briefly that maybe Lex had planned this all from the start as an elaborate way of humiliating him for not going through with the Wayne/Luthor merger a few months back. Lex does seem the type to hold a grudge over something so insignificant. It all seemed pretty petty to Bruce since Lex Corp was just about as successful as Wayne Enterprises, if not equal.

But yeah, Bruce wasn't in too good of a mood since he couldn't leave even if he wanted to or, god forbid, change out of this _dumb_ costume.

The ballroom was humming with idle chatter and the soft hum of music to fill out the hollow notes in between. Bruce stood off to the side by one of the many tables garnished with assortments of finger food and beverages. Bruce casually glanced around the room with a drink in hand and a sullen look on his face as he took in the sight of scantily clad women and obnoxious playboys trying to act like they were something special.

Bruce sipped tiredly on his glass of champagne, his second one so far, and tried to resist the urge to pick the annoying wedgie that was slowly riding up each time he shifted to scratch at the irritating red and blue material or adjust the, _christ almighty_ , red cape that accompanied the ensemble. Damn, was the material itchy as all hell. Not to mention a size too small which meant it clung a little _too_ snugly in certain areas. The red booty shorts didn't exactly help to hide his modesty very well. Or at all.

He was getting so many lingering gazes that Bruce was sure that they didn't even notice how ridiculous he looked simply because their eyes were otherwise occupied elsewhere. Bruce wasn't sure if he should be thankful for that or even more embarrassed. I mean, what kind of a _jackass_ would wear his underwear on the outside of his costume anyway?

The more Bruce thought about it, the more he realised just how many superheroes actually did that. He found that the number was too damn high and he wondered why he ever liked reading comics when he was younger in the first place. Bunch of _grown men_ parading around in their underwear as they fought crime… As if it would _magically_ scare the villain off. A cold day in hell, maybe.

Bruce didn't even realize just how bored he was until then, if him contemplating the fashion choices of superheroes was anything to go by. He really needed to get out of here or occupy himself some other way. He felt like he was getting stir crazy just by standing here. Maybe he could meander himself into the crowd and, _hopefully_ , find someone he knows, or at least doesn't mind being around. That bar was extremely low, however, especially coupled with the fact that most people were wearing masks.

He can see a gesturing Lex Luthor across the way talking to someone dressed as a pirate, complete with a hook and eyepatch. Lex himself seemed to be dressed up as one of the villains from Batman. It was the goofy one that wore all green and had question marks all over everything and skipped around like a loon, laughing maniacally. Lex's suit looked as though it was tailored down to the last thread, and here was Bruce Wayne in some shitty nylon _thing_ that would not make him stop itching. He continued to scan the room until he spotted the lovely Diana Prince not too far away. She was dressed up as Wonder Woman, she even had the lasso secured to her hip, which she pulled off wonderfully.

She was really the only other person Bruce knew, or liked for that matter, so he figured he should go over to see if he could salvage what was left of the evening. Before Bruce can follow through on a solid plan, however, he's inexplicably stopped by that all too familiar voice chanting out to him in a mocking fashion.

"It's a bird! It's a plane!" A sudden pause and a surprised gasp. "It's Bruce Wayne!"

Bruce turned around to face the owner of that snarky voice, much to his chagrin, and heaved out a sigh when he saw the costumed sight of Clark Kent from the Daily Planet dressed up to look like Batman from the old Adam West show. Crappy mask and all. Why the hell did the mask have to highlight the eyebrows, of all things, not to mention the weird lining around the nose. What was that about? How were people supposed to take him seriously? Bruce didn't think it was possible for someone to look even _more_ silly than him. At least he wasn't the only one wearing underwear on the outside anymore.

If there were a crappy costume contest, Bruce would consider Clark to be a bit of competition because they both look stupid. Ironically, Clark had been intentional about his costume choice. No one twisted his arm. Clark just had shitty taste in costumes and superheroes in general. A man who dressed up like a bat. How _frightening_! Bruce was practically shaking in his bright red baby booties.

" _Nice_ costume," Clark remarked with a lingering sweep of his eyes. "It really _brings out_ certain assets of your body. Didn't take you for the Halloween type, Mr. Wayne."

If it weren't for the voice and that jawline, Bruce wouldn't have guessed it was Clark in that suit. The costume looked as if it was made out of the same material as Bruce's, which meant it also outlined his body in a flattering way. Bruce never noticed just how ripped the usually mousy reporter was until now, simply because said reporter was always burden with flannels and jackets. Clark looked oddly sexy in his crappy department store costume… Not that Bruce was paying attention to that.

"I'm not," Bruce deadpanned, looking Clark into the eyeholes of the bat mask that slightly shadowed the reporter's face. "Not exactly here by choice if that's what you're getting at."

"You certainly picked one hell of a costume," Clark commented, smirking as he took in the sight of Bruce Wayne dressed up as Superman. "You'll definitely be on the front page of _all_ the papers. In both Metropolis _and_ Gotham."

"You may _look_ dumb, Mr. Kent, but don't act like it. You know why I'm here and that I had no hand in deciding my outfit," Bruce defended, calling Clark out on his bullshit.

"What can I say? I couldn't resist winding up _the_ Bruce Wayne. Especially when he looks as though he auditioned for a B-movie Superman and lost the part to someone else," Clark teased, feeling smug.

"Says the guy who looks like he put on a crappy Batman outfit, got drunk, and then jumped off the roof because he _thought he could fly_ ," Bruce retorted, coaxing an amused smirk out of the reporter as if he had been impressed by Bruce's witty banter.

"Alright… _Touché_..." Clark conceded slowly, still grinning at how sharp-tongued Bruce was. That's probably the one thing Clark liked about Bruce the most. His clever wit. It made for good vocal sparring, for lack of a better term. "If you hate it so much, why not just take off? I'm sure no one would notice by this point."

"I can't," is all Bruce could say.

"You're not obligated to stay. You've made an appearance, so that should be enough," Clark told him logically. "Besides, I think most of the paparazzi cleared out long ago."

"I'm not just here because I'm _obligated_ , Mr. Kent," Bruce informed, failing to look serious in his current get up.

" _Oh?_ " Clark implored curiously.

"Believe it or not, I can be quite charitable from time to time, Mr. Kent," Bruce reiterated, hating the way Clark was silently judging him.

" _Charitable_? That's an awfully big word, Mr. Wayne," Clark teased, loving how Bruce's face flushed from embarrassment and irritation. "I'm surprised you didn't choke."

"I'm sure there's plenty of things you tend to choke on too, Mr. Kent," Bruce responded on reflex before he knew what he said, knocking the young man for a loop as a blush slowly crept across the part of his face not covered by his mask.

And, by some divine miracle, in that moment they were joined by Lex Luthor that made his presence known with that high pitched titter of his. Both Clark and Bruce straightened up and all but forgot about what Bruce had said just a few seconds ago that had got them both looking like a couple of blushing brides. They spare each other a once over before turning their attention toward the host of the party.

"Bruce Wayne meets Clark Kent!" Lex announced with delight, looking between the two men sizing one another up. "I love bringing people together! And I must say, you two look _truly_ amazing this evening."

"Hello," Clark greeted.

"Lex," Bruce offered with a small scowl.

"I must say, you and Mr. Kent here complement each other _perfectly_!" Lex stated, laying a hand to each of their shoulders as if they were all old friends. "God verses man, day verses night and so on…"

"If anyone complements anyone it's obviously you and me," Clark corrected, looking Lex up and down with an amused grin. "The Riddler is one of Batman's mortal enemies, after all."

"You like it? I wasn't really going to dress up tonight, but I figured what the hell?" Lex rambled, showing off his suit subtly. "But enough about me, how are you gentlemen enjoying this little benefit _I_ put together?"

"Quite nice, I must say," Clark complemented, being ever so polite because his ma raised him right. "Really elegant choice of venue."

"Yeah, must've pulled a lot of strings to book this place without being put on a waiting list," Bruce commented distantly, sounding a little bitter.

"Well, you pull on enough threads and you can get just about _anything_ you want," Lex mentioned, flashing a friendly smile. "I'm sure the same thing could be said about certain people in Gotham."

Clark looked between Lex and Bruce haphazardly, gauging both of their body language. There was a tension in the air between them that Clark could only describe as passive aggressive. Clark could tell Bruce didn't like Lex _at all_ and that he just wanted to be left alone. Clark thought that if Bruce had to continue to go through this torture any longer he might just do something he might regret later. So, Clark stepped in between them and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Actually, I was just discussing something similar to that with Bruce here," Clark informed, slapping Bruce on the back, the use of Bruce's first name instead of the formal _Mr. Wayne_ rolling off his tongue effortlessly. Lex looked at him curiously. "You see, I happen to be working on a piece about the financial corruption going on in Metropolis and Gotham and how it affects the little people like myself, and Bruce promised me an interview."

"Is that so?" Lex asked with arched brows and a surprised expression.

"We were just on our way to a more _secluded_ area so we could talk in private," Clark lied, looking over at Bruce with an insistent gaze. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

Bruce looked over at Lex who was shifting his expectant gaze between the two men and Bruce quickly flicked his attention back over to Clark. Bruce took notice of Clark's imploring gaze, seeing how his jaw clenched ever so slightly, and caught wind as to what Clark was _really_ doing. The younger man was offering him a way out of this situation and he cleared his throat promptly.

"My mother taught me to always keep a promise," Bruce played along, sounding convincing enough to fool the eccentric Lex Luthor. "I'd hate to disappoint her now."

"Well then, I should leave you gentlemen to it," Lex said after a brief moment of contemplation. He turned to Clark to shake his hand and then does the same for Bruce. "It was nice to chat with you guys and I'm _terribly_ sorry if I intruded."

"Oh, not at all, Mr. Luthor," Clark assured, keeping up his polite, boy scout façade. "I'm honored just to be here."

"I'm going to go and mingle now. A lot of important people here tonight, got appearances to make and what not," Lex laughed as if he were talking to a pair of old acquaintances from high school. "There's still plenty of food and drinks. You two enjoy yourselves!"

Lex slithered off to parts unknown and left Bruce and Clark to stand there awkwardly in their equally ridiculous costumes. Bruce looked over at Clark with his head hung down slightly in a shy manner as if he was silently saying _thank you_ to Clark for bailing him out. Clark smiled in kind, loving how flustered he made Bruce. Clark wondered if anyone had ever managed to do that before. He suddenly felt ballsy, cocky even.

"Shall we, then?" Clark offered with a jerk of his head in the opposite direction.

"Pardon?"

"I did just lie to _Lex Luthor_ to get you off the hook," Clark pointed out.

"Okay, and?" Bruce asked, sounding sassy again.

"Well, he seems to think that we're heading off to somewhere private. Now's our chance to get out of here," Clark explained as if Bruce really had no clue what was going on. "I mean, unless you _want_ to stare at a wall all night."

Bruce huffed out a sigh and, much to his chagrin, followed Clark out of the spacious ballroom and into an adjoining foyer. Out here they can get a reprieve from the closeness of all the bodies and actually get a breath of fresh air. Clark immediately took off his Batman mask and gasped as if he had just almost drowned. Bruce watched as Clark swabbed away the sweat that had been collecting on the bridge of his nose and forehead, wondering how in the hell Clark managed to keep that mask on for so long.

Clark's hair was slightly damp and messy from being trapped within his mask, which should be completely unflattering under any circumstances, but it made him look oddly handsome in a way. Plus, it was the first time tonight that Bruce was able to properly see the younger man's face.

"How the hell does Batman fight crime in this damn thing?" Clark whined, panting like a dog.

"I thought you liked Batman," Bruce teased.

"I do, but I think I'd rather be Superman. Wanna trade?" Clark flirted, holding the cheap Batman mask out towards Bruce who grimaced at it.

"No thanks," Bruce declined, putting his hands up to deflect the gesture. He felt stiff trying to move his arms and the material had stuck to him uncomfortably. "Besides, I think this outfit doubles as a second skin now."

"That bad?" Clark laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. A genuine laugh.

"It's practically symbiotic by now," Bruce joked, though there was a hint of panic underlining it.

"Didn't happen to bring an extra pair of clothes did you?" Clark inquired, still grinning from the way Bruce was struggling to roll his arms in the constricting material.

"Unfortunately, no," Bruce replied, frowning a little. "I could always send for some though. Alfred's really loyal like that. Always there for me when I need something."

"Alfred's your bulter, right?" Clark asked.

"He's my friend," Bruce corrected.

"Of course," Clark agreed, feeling kind of stupid despite himself.

Bruce started to pat his hands all over himself as if he were trying to find something he had lost and Clark stared at him with an odd expression.

"You wouldn't happen to have a phone I could borrow? Seems I left mine in my other suit," Bruce cracked, but his face said otherwise as he was completely serious.

"Oh, um…" Clark dug around in the utility belt of his costume, the only nice thing about it, and retrieved his cell phone after some fumbling. He handed it over to Bruce. "Knock yourself out."

"Thanks," Bruce acknowledged.

Clark watched as Bruce typed in a number, Alfred's most likely, and walked off a few paces for a little bit of privacy. Bruce had his back turned towards Clark, giving the young man not much to look at seeing as how Superman cape almost went all the way down to the floor. Clark didn't need to see Bruce's ass to know that it probably looked _amazing_ straining against the cheap fabric. Clark was knocked out of his musings when Bruce turned back to him and handed the phone back to Clark.

"It's going to be a little while, but Alfred's on his way," Bruce informed, as if Clark needed to know what was going on.

"You didn't drive here yourself?" Clark wondered out loud.

"I did, but I can't really move because of…" Bruce trailed off.

"Right…" Clark concurred, nodding his head because he didn't know what else to do.

They both stood there in awkward silence, in _almost_ identical costumes, feeling like more should be said or done. Nothing was keeping Clark here, but Bruce didn't _exactly_ tell him to get lost either. Clark fidgeted, trying to pull his Batman costume back in place, while Bruce attempted to do pretty much the same with his Superman outfit. Neither of them felt comfortable, to say the least.

"You know, you look really different without your glasses," Bruce commented out of the blue, capturing Clark's disheveled gaze. "Not in a bad way," he quickly defended. "I'm just so used to seeing you hiding behind them."

"Well, it _is_ the perfect disguise," Clark bragged, flashing Bruce an easy smile. "Simple, but effective."

"You certainly fooled me," Bruce admitted with a warm quirk of his lips.

"How long do you think it's going to take Alfred to get here?" Clark implored, getting bold.

"He's still all the way in Gotham. Could be an hour, maybe more. No way of telling really," Bruce answered casually. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you needed _help_ getting out of that costume," Clark asserted, fidgeting closer to Bruce to get his point across.

Bruce seemed to take the hint, though a bit skeptical of Clark's motives.

"Off the record?" Bruce inquired, because he was _Bruce-fucking-Wayne_.

"To be fair, none of this was ever _on_ the record," Clark stated, laughing nervously. Bruce looked unimpressed. "Do you honestly think I want my mom to see me getting caught fucking Bruce Wayne while we're both dressed they way we are? My lips are sealed… We _could_ change that though."

"But where?" Bruce said thoughtfully, sparing a glance around the foyer.

"There's got to be a bathroom, right?" Clark offered.

"Lead the way," Bruce said, giving Clark the go ahead.

It didn't take Clark long to find a washroom, and it took him even less to press himself against a red and blue Bruce Wayne. They barely even managed to get the door locked because they were both too eager to get out of these damn costumes. The bathroom itself was a single person, unisex one that was probably intended for maintenance workers, but Clark and Bruce found a better use for it.

Clark pushed Bruce back against the sink until the cold porcelain bore into the small of Bruce's back, making him gasp slightly when Clark pressed his lips over his own. Clark kissed him desperately, like his life depended on it, and Bruce just rolled with the punches. Clark's body was flush against Bruce's, with the exception of the thin, cheap fabric separating their warm bodies. Clark rutted his groin into Bruce and, to Bruce's surprise, the young man was ready to go.

Bruce was just getting there himself, but Clark was rock hard in no time and whining deep in his throat as they kissed fervently. Clark dropped his Batman mask on the floor, abandoning it in favor of running his hands all over Bruce's strong body. He loved the way Bruce's muscles strained against the tight material of his Superman costume and he relished when Bruce groaned as he raked his fingernails down the older man's chest.

Clark let one of his hands meander downwards idly until he enclosed it over the bulge framed by Superman's red undies. Bruce was still half mast which made Clark groan a little in disappointment. Had he done something wrong?

"Having trouble?" Clark asked politely.

"Getting there," Bruce assured in a breathy rumble. "Some of us take a little longer."

"What can I say? Seeing you dressed up like Superman gets me all hot and bothered," Clark teased, though he _was_ half serious. Christopher Reeve was a hottie. Could you really blame Clark?

"I distinctly remember you saying you'd help me out of this stupid thing," Bruce complained, gritting his teeth when Clark rubbed the heel of his palm into his growing erection.

"I will," Clark promised, grinning as he squeezed Bruce through his costume. "But you have to keep the cape on."

"Whatever gets you off, just… please," Bruce groaned when Clark's continued groping started to rub him raw in the best way possible. "I want to _feel_ you."

The young man smirked at this and brought his hands up to hook them in the hem of the neckline, bunching it up with a slight twist. Clark yanked roughly and the poor fabric gave way, tearing right down the middle of the _"S"_ to reveal Bruce's broad chest. Bruce gasped, taken aback by the sudden display of strength, and found himself getting even more aroused by the fact that Clark was strong enough to tear right through.

"You're a lot stronger than you look," Bruce commented breathlessly.

"You shouldn't underestimate me, Mr. Wayne," Clark purred against Bruce's neck. "I _did_ grow up on a farm, ya know."

"That farm have a built-in gym?" Bruce remarked with a damp huff.

Clark didn't respond to this, but instead went on to kiss and nip his way down Bruce's chest, pausing only to rip open more of the costume when it got in his way. Soon, the suit fell free from his shoulders and he shrugged the rest off of his arms as Clark kneeled down on the cold tile floor beneath him. The whole costume pooled around Bruce mid-calf, on account of the boots, with the exception of the cape since it wasn't attached.

Bruce peered down at Clark to see the young man lovingly stroke his hard on through his underwear and, occasionally, press his face against it. Bruce sighed at the sensation and Clark found himself actively rubbing his face all over Bruce's manhood like a cat showing affection. Clark could do this hours, worshipping Bruce's body, but they're on borrowed time right now and Clark _really_ wanted to get fucked before the night was over.

The front of Bruce's underwear is yanked down gently, snagging slightly for a brief moment, before giving way to Bruce's erection. Clark pressed his face against it and slowly licked a line up the underside of it, savoring the shudder that tremored throughout Bruce's body. Clark wrapped a hand around Bruce's cock and lazily lapped all around the head, not even pausing when he transitioned into taking Bruce in his mouth. Clark peered up at Bruce with half-lidded blue irises and moaned long and deep as he went down further.

Bruce couldn't stand it. Clark looked so hot, down on his knees with a cock in his mouth like he was made solely for _this_. On the other hand, though, Bruce was too distracted by the black and grey atrocity that was Clark's Batman costume. _At least he wasn't wearing the mask_ , Bruce mused. Still, Bruce felt himself twitch with interest inside Clark's warm mouth as his lips slid effortlessly around him. The added twist and upstroke of Clark's hand also didn't help to stave off his more immediate needs.

"You keep doing that and this'll be over a lot faster," Bruce warned, panting as Clark continued to bob and stroke over his hard length.

"We can't have that, can we?" Clark said when he finally pulled off for air. "We've only just begun."

Bruce dragged Clark to his feet and swapped their positions so Clark was the one against the sink now. Bruce tore open the front of Clark's costume, much like the younger man had done, but with a little more ease. Clark pulled the sleeves off of his arms and tossed the cape to the floor as Bruce stepped out of the tattered remains of his own costume. Clark unfastened the utility belt and set it on the counter ask Bruce reapproached him. Bruce hoisted Clark onto the rim of the sink and bent down to pull the torn material down off of Clark's legs until he was completely free.

Clark was breathless by the time Bruce had fully exposed him, except for his underwear that still clung to his body, and he felt slightly dizzy from arousal. Bruce pulled down Clark's underwear, making his erection spring free from it's confines, and settled in between the reporter's legs until they were rubbing against each other. It was nice to finally get out of those ridiculous outfits.

"So, how're we going to do this?" Bruce proposed, bracing his hands on the countertop on either side of Clark.

"I might have a little _something_ in my utility belt," Clark suggested, smirking fondly when Bruce went to retrieve it.

Bruce rooted around through the different pouches before coming across a packet of lube Clark had secreted away. Bruce looked at Clark imploringly with an arched brow and the young man simply shrugged.

"Batman always comes prepared," Clark stated, the words having a hidden double meaning only when you _really_ stopped and thought about it.

Bruce rolled his eyes, but Clark knew Bruce was secretly impressed. Bruce tore open the packet and spread some of the contents over his fingers, distributing a fair amount as evenly as possible. Clark scooted himself down slightly and closer to Bruce so that his ass was kind of hanging off the edge of the sink. Bruce pressed two fingers against Clark's entrance, circling around the rim teasingly before deciding to push in.

Clark moaned as Bruce's fingers settled inside him and he threw his arms around Bruce's shoulders as insurance incase he slipped. Bruce wiggled his fingers within Clark's body, stretching and preparing him as best he could. He added a third alongside the other two when he deemed Clark was ready for more, making Clark let out a toe curling gasp. He clung to Bruce tightly as the older man thrusted his fingers gently inside him, taking care to make sure Clark was adjusting properly.

"Come on, Bruce. I want you inside me," Clark pleaded, feeling ready enough to take him on.

Bruce pulled his fingers out of Clark slowly and went to squeeze what was left of the packet over his length. He stroked himself a few times to spread the lubrication around liberally and grabbed himself at the base to line up with Clark's body. Bruce groaned as he teased the rim of Clark's entrance with the tip of his cock, pushing against the somewhat slack resistance of Clark. Clark hummed with satisfaction when Bruce started to push inside him slowly.

Clark let out a long shaky moan when Bruce finally bottomed out and was flush against Clark's ass that hung off the edge of the sink. They shared a heated kiss, tongues mingling in a slow caress, as Bruce began to pump his hips in and out of Clark. Clark whimpered wantonly into Bruce's mouth, riding high on the sensations pulsing throughout his body. He wrapped his legs around Bruce's waist to try and coax the older man to give him _more_.

"Fuck me harder, Bruce," Clark begged in the sweetest tone, moaning into Bruce's ear as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. "Give it to me, I can take it!"

Bruce grabbed Clark by the hips and started to thrust more insistently, snapping his hips against Clark. Clark held on, grunting and gasping occasionally when Bruce nudged iparticularly hard against his prostate. His breath hitched and he dropped a hand down into his lap to stroke furiously at his weeping cock. He was so unbelievably hard that he felt as if he'd burst any moment. He unconsciously gripped at the red cape still draped around Bruce's shoulders and fisted the thin piece of material.

Bruce kept up his pace, encouraged by the tiny noises Clark was making as well as the noticeable clenching around his cock as the younger man tensed up for his impending orgasm. Clark's hand was a blur along his cock, stroking himself to completion as Bruce's cock continuously rubbed against his prostate, stimulating him beyond belief as he came all over his stomach. Clark let out a broken moan that tapered into a silent shudder as Bruce kept stimulating him.

"Fuck, that's hot," Bruce gasped at the sight of Clark coming undone in front of him.

His eyes were squeezed shut and Clark's muscles clenched around Bruce, presenting a little more resistance than before, but he didn't stop pounding into Clark until he reached the threshold of his orgasm. Bruce gripped tightly at Clark's hips, bruisingly so, and slammed himself inward one more time, colliding with Clark's body in a final joining of bodies. He coated the inside of Clark's body generously before he pulled out and came some more against the reddened and used hole.

Once they catch their breath, they gaze at each other with hooded eyes, sweaty and panting as Bruce leaned in to lay one last kiss upon Clark's lips. Warmth spread throughout Clark's chest, like the heat of a blush prickling along his skin, and he reveled in the feeling of it. They didn't have long to bask in the afterglow of their coupling, however, because there was a knock to the door.

"Master Wayne?" Alfred called out, rapping his knuckles against the door softly. "Bruce? Are you in there?"

"Yes, Alfred," Bruce replied, sighing ever so slightly. He cupped Clark's face and kissed him deeply. "Give me a second."

Bruce parted from his lover and approached the door, yanking off the Superman and discarding it on the floor. He unlocked the door and poked his head out from around the corner, making sure to conceal his body from the prying eyes on the other side. He's met by Alfred looking absolutely baffled and all sorts of suspicious.

"Hello, Alfred," Bruce greeted. "Did you bring the clothes?"

"Of course," Alfred said, presenting the folded up articles to Bruce. "May I ask _why_ you needed me to bring these all the way down here?"

"I sort of had a… _wardrobe malfunction_ ," Bruce offered as an excuse, playing it cool as he gathered up the clothes.

"I see," Alfred said slowly, trying to peer over Bruce's shoulder. "But why did you need _two_ pairs of clothing? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"I'm not coming home tonight," Bruce stated matter-of-fact. "I need a change of clothes for tomorrow."

" _Right_ ," Alfred acknowledged, understanding what Bruce meant by that. "Well then, I hope you have a good night."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said ardently, giving his friend a warm smile. "I really appreciate it."

"And a Happy Halloween, Master Bruce," Alfred added.

Alfred smiled back at Bruce before taking his leave. Bruce shut the door with a soft click and turned back to Clark who had slid off the sink and cleaned himself up. He looked around at the torn costumes lying limply on the ground, smirking slightly. Bruce tossed a bundle of clothes at Clark, catching him off guard. Clark flashed a smile at the older man, eyes twinkling in the artificial light of the small, personal bathroom. Clark couldn't help but feel grateful for Bruce thinking about it him and telling Alfred to bring an extra pair of clothes for him.

"Get dressed," Bruce told him. "We're taking this back to your place."


End file.
